Inspector Clark had put men on Tosh and Cooper. Tosh hadn’t done anything or gone anywhere out of the ordinary so far, but a note had been made of the fact that a well-dressed bearded gentleman in an Ulster and Homburg had made a call on Cooper at his office.
‘Now why should a cove looking like King Edward the Seventh call on Horsemouth?’ asked Inspector Clark of Detective-Sergeant Plunkett.
‘Needs a loan, havin’ lost a packet on the gee-gees?’ suggested Plunkett.
‘Could be. On the other hand, what about the fact that the burglaries have all taken place at houses and suchlike owned by people high up on the social register?’
‘And when said owners weren’t at home, guv.’
‘Glad you’re following me,’ said Inspector Clark.
‘Closely, guv.’
‘So I notice. You’ll be treading on my bleedin’ foot in a minute. Well, I’m not displeased, I’ve got certain feelings about Cooper now, and I favour Knocker Harrison’s informative help. And we’ve got the address of King Edward the Seventh. Could be useful, that.’
Ma, her erring better half back in her life, made sure on Wednesday morning that he took himself off to Woolwich Arsenal to apply for the job the Governor had said was available. Ma made sure by going with him. He carried a letter from the Governor in his pocket. He got the job all right, but his sangfroid took a cruel blow. It was a dungaree and broom job, along with a large dustbin on wheels, entailing sweeping workshop floors and collecting waste. The pay was thirty bob a week. But he had to take it. Ma was adamant. She said the captain of his battleship would charge him with mutinous ingratitude if he didn’t. She meant the Governor of Marsham Gaol, of course. Pa’s philosophical nature helped him to recover by the time he and Ma got back home, when he told her he reckoned he could work his way up from sweeping floors to a job in the stores within a year. Ma said if he got that kind of quick promotion she’d be proud of him. Pa said a stores job could prove lucrative. Ma said yes, it ought to be good for more than thirty bob a week. My feelings exactly, said Pa.
That same day Nick received a letter from Annabelle.
‘Dear Captain, Secretary and Everything Else, I’m dropping you a line to let you know I can’t get to Wednesday evening’s committee meeting. I expect you’ll be bitterly disappointed at not having me there, but it’s our monthly dance at our local church, which I always go to with my friends. Anyway, if Chrissie wants to make any proposals, ask Cassie to second them for me, as Chrissie’s proposals are always brilliant. I trust the team is prospering, and by next week’s meeting I’ll have all the details ready for running a successful raffle in aid of our supporters’ scarves and so on. Yours truly, Annabelle Somers.’
PS. Can you foxtrot to syncopated music?’
What a girl. Nick grinned over the letter, which had arrived by the midday post. Something had to be done about Annabelle now that Pa was out and had accepted an honest job. All thoughts of what Pa’s dubious accomplishments had done to the family had to be put behind him. Now was the time for a bloke’s fancy to lead him to a serious talk with the young lady who was standing him on his head at committee meetings.
‘Daddy, about Annabelle and Nick,’ said Rosie.
‘What about them?’ asked Boots.
‘D’you think it’s going to be bliss in the making because he’s moving to a better job?’ asked Rosie.
‘You’ll have to ask Annabelle,’ said Boots.
‘I don’t think I’ll risk that,’ said Rosie, ‘she’ll throw something heavy at me. Does Nick know what a state she’s in about all his dilly-dallying?’
‘Young love’s a bit traumatic,’ said Boots, thinking of his feelings for Elsie Chivers when he was Annabelle’s age.
‘Painful, I’m sure,’ smiled Rosie.
‘Well, you could say that, poppet.’
‘D’you think Nick is right for Annabelle?’
‘If he turns out to be right in the eyes of your Aunt Lizzy,’ said Boots, ‘he’ll be right for Annabelle.’
‘Crikey,’ said Rosie, ‘you’re so wise you could be another King Solomon.’
‘Hope not,’ said Boots, ‘I’d have to cope with two hundred concubines.’
Rosie shrieked with laughter.
Friday night
‘Saucy buggers,’ murmured Detective-Sergeant Plunkett. The January air was as cold as charity in a freezing mood, frost whitening the cobblestones of this mews in Knightsbridge, which backed on to handsome town houses of the rich and noble. Moonlight put a glitter on the frost.
Two men wearing rubber-soled shoes had gone over the wall, leaving a third man keeping watch. Sergeant Plunkett, with colleagues, had followed Tosh Fingers all the way from Hackney, for Inspector Clark had ordered a night tail on him until further notice. Tosh had joined up with two men when he reached Brompton Road. It was now nearly one in the morning, and Knightsbridge was asleep. Plunkett whispered to one colleague, telling him to go round to Prince’s Gardens and watch the front of the house in question. He didn’t know it, but it was the town house of Lord and Lady Kettlesborough, who had left for the South of France fifteen hours earlier, taking their servants with them.
Round to the front of the house went the CID man. Plunkett and two other colleagues waited, watching Tosh Fingers, a dim figure lurking about in the shadows of the wall. It was an hour before his accomplices reappeared. Over the wall they came, one dropping a Gladstone bag into Tosh’s arms. He took it back once he’d landed, much as if the bag would feel safer out of Tosh’s clutch. The three of them began a noiseless scarper. Very unfortunately, while temporarily exposed by the moonlight, they found their progress suddenly impeded by the materializing figures of three burly plainclothes men.
‘Hello, Tosh,’ said Sergeant Plunkett, ‘out collectin’ bets, are you?’
Tosh did a slippery one-two, and the other men executed a quick turnabout. Not a chance. Plunkett tripped Tosh, and his colleagues jumped on the other men.
‘Fair cop,’ said one.
‘’Ere, what’s the game?’ protested Tosh, as he was hauled upright.
‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ said Plunkett.
It all led to Mister Horsemouth being divorced at three in the morning from the bed he shared with Mrs Horsemouth, and that led to the arrest of the gentleman who looked like King Edward the Seventh. He was charged with being an accessory to the burgling of various residences owned by noble friends of his. He had laid information with Mister Horsemouth as to when the owners and their servants would be away.
A hoard of stolen sparklers and other valuables was brought to light the following day. The hoard was a residue, for much had been sold. Polish Toby, responsible for the alteration of a large amount of the jewels, had a nose for safety-first tactics, and he vanished on news of the arrests.
Pa was not required to bear witness. He had already played his helpful part. The Governor was very pleased with him, and so was Inspector Clark.
Just after Nick arrived home on Saturday morning, Fanny answered a knock on the door. A nice-looking feller in a cap and overcoat asked if he could speak to Nick.
‘Hold on a tick and I’ll get ’im,’ said young Fanny. Taken with his looks, she asked, ‘Excuse me, but would you ’ave a brother about thirteen or fourteen?’
‘Funny you should ask,’ said the bloke, ‘only I’ve got one who’s fourteen.’
‘Well,’ said saucy Fanny, ‘if ’e’s like you, I wouldn’t mind if he came round to see me.’
‘Aren’t you a bit young?’ said the bloke.
‘Yes, but I don’t want to be late startin’,’ said Fanny, ‘I might get left at the post. Anyway, stay there and I’ll get Nick.’
She went through the passage and called her brother. Nick came out of the kitchen and said hello to the bloke.
‘What can I do for you?’ he asked.
‘I’m Johnny Richards. You wrote to me in answer to me letter about your football team, tellin’ me you’d be pleased to meet me and th
at I might like to see the Rovers in action.’
Nick looked him over. He seemed an upright bloke, with good square shoulders and the kind of looks that Walworth girls admired. Sort of manly and fearless.
‘Glad to meet you, Johnny,’ he said, and shook his hand. ‘Come in for a tick.’ He took him into the parlour, and Johnny showed he was a bit of a gent by removing his cap. ‘If you’re free this afternoon, you can come and watch our match with Old Kent Road Hotspurs.’
‘Fine with me,’ said Johnny.
What an agreeable bloke, thought Nick, and about my age. Alice might like him.
‘Excuse me a couple of sees, Johnny, while I get our chief supporter to come and talk to you about how we run the team. Hold on.’
He went back to the kitchen. Alice, looking as nice as always in a crisp white blouse and blue skirt, was slicing bread to be eaten with the midday meal. Nick told her she was wanted.
‘What for and who by?’ asked Alice.
‘Bloke called Johnny Richards.’
‘Yes, he’s smashin’,’ said Fanny.
‘Give it a go, Alice,’ said Pa, due to start his job on Monday.
‘He’d like to talk to you about the supporters’ club,’ said Nick.
‘Don’t make me laugh,’ said Alice, but she went. Johnny Richards blinked a little when she entered the parlour. Well, Alice always had a ladylike look.
‘Hello,’ he said, ‘are you the chief supporter of Browning Street Rovers?’
‘Who are you?’ asked Alice.
‘Johnny Richards, hopin’ to get a place in the Rovers. Is that a good start?’
‘Start to what?’ asked Alice.
‘To goin’ to see the Rovers together this afternoon,’ said Johnny.
‘My, you’re in a hurry, aren’t you?’ said Alice.
‘Well, I’m disengaged at the moment, y’know,’ said Johnny, ‘and short of a best friend.’
‘Can’t you make a best friend of your grocer?’ asked Alice.
‘Our grocer’s my grandad,’ said Johnny.
‘Well, that’s not my fault,’ said Alice. ‘Why’d you want to talk about the supporters’ club?’
‘Are you Nick’s sister?’
‘Yes, he does ’appen to be my brother,’ said Alice.
‘I like him bein’ your brother,’ said Johnny.
‘Why?’
‘Well, he could’ve been your feller,’ said Johnny.
‘I think you’re comin’ it a bit,’ said Alice.
Nick reckoned he’d put his eldest sister on the path to her first romantic walk in a park because she was still talking to Johnny fifteen minutes later, and because when she and Fanny left for the afternoon’s football match, Johnny met her on the corner of the Walworth Road and sat with her on the tram all the way. And he was beside her most of the time during the match.
Annabelle turned up and stood between Cassie and Dumpling, listening to them as they alternately praised and rubbished their team. Nick came in for a lot of rubbishing.
‘Look at ’im,’ groaned Dumpling, ‘I just don’t know what’s come over ’im just recent. What with me bein’ promised to Danny in daft wedlock and Nick fallin’ over ’is feet lately, me life’s taken a sad turn, Annabelle, I can tell yer.’
‘Cheer up, Chrissie,’ said Annabelle, ‘I’m sure Danny’s going to make you a loving hubby, and as for Nick, well, there’s a remedy, isn’t there? At next Wednesday’s committee meeting we can tell him that if he doesn’t pull himself together, we’ll do it for him. And we’ll do it by proposing that Danny should be captain in his place.’
‘Crikey,’ breathed Cassie, ‘Nick’ll fall off ’is chair and likely never get up again.’
‘Oh, dear, poor bloke,’ said Annabelle.
As for Dumpling, her roundly plump face, usually healthy with colour, showed the paleness of horrendous shock.
‘Annabelle, we can’t do that,’ she gasped, ‘we can’t vote for Danny to be captain in place of Nick. Nick’s our hero.’
Well, he’s not mine, thought Annabelle, and I could spit.
‘Still, something’s got to be done to bring him to his senses,’ she said. She didn’t, however, mean his football senses. ‘There, now look.’ Nick had been floored by an Old Kent Road player as wide as a backyard coal bunker. ‘We can’t have a captain who can’t stay upright.’
‘But Danny won’t do as captain,’ said Dumpling earnestly. ‘I know ’e’s me future husband, but if he was captain and the Rovers was losin’, ’e’d just cuddle them in sympathy. Nick would knock their ’eads together, like a good captain should.’
‘It’s love that’s done it to him,’ said Cassie.
‘Oh, gawd, I ’ope not,’ said Dumpling.
‘It’s only the first pangs,’ said Cassie. ‘Freddy had a lot of first pangs, which sort of made ’im cross-eyed, but he’s all right now, I pulled him together.’
Annabelle laughed.
Nick was collared by Alice and Johnny at half-time, Johnny commenting on the match and Alice saying that although she couldn’t keep up with his cheek, it would only be fair for Nick to give him a trial. Nick said he thought he could fix it. Alice smiled. She’d found a young man. It was one of those instant things, like a flash of lightning.
Annabelle, watching Nick, fidgeted in frustration. That made her cross with herself. Why should she let anyone give her the fidgets?
Nick was suddenly in front of her then, smiling at her.
‘Hello, committee member,’ he said, ‘thanks for your letter and apologies for absence. We missed you.’
‘Pardon?’ she said. ‘Oh, yes, you’re the captain and secretary. I forgot for a moment that we’d met.’
Nick laughed.
‘I’d like a few words with you,’ he said.
‘What sort of words?’
‘I’ll think of some,’ said Nick, ‘but watch out if you play up.’
‘Oh, are you thinking of making an appointment, might I ask?’
‘Well, I mean to see you,’ said Nick, ‘but not now, it’s back to our sporting labours.’
You better had see me, thought Annabelle, or I’ll send you another letter, with a bomb in it.
The Rovers won the match, despite Nick being in love. Annabelle left to go home, and Freddy, when he was washed and changed, walked along the path with Cassie.
‘I’ve got a funny feeling Nick’s a bit gone on Annabelle,’ he said.
‘Oh, you do surprise me,’ said Cassie. ‘I’ll faint in a minute that your penny’s dropped at last.’
‘Well, don’t faint here,’ said Freddy, ‘not in Brockwell Park.’
‘No, I’ll do it on the tram,’ said Cassie, ‘and you’d better sit next to me so’s you can revive me.’
‘What, loosen yer coat and blouse?’ said Freddy.
‘No, not on the tram, wait till we get ’ome,’ said Cassie.
‘All right,’ said Freddy, ‘I’ll do it for you in yer parlour.’
Cassie giggled.
‘Freddy, you’ll ’ave a faintin’ fit yourself,’ she said.
‘Yes, I know,’ said Freddy, ‘but it can’t be ’elped, and in a way I’m looking forward to it.’
Annabelle’s brother Bobby, thirteen, having answered a knock on the front door on Sunday morning, mounted the stairs and called to her. She was in her bedroom, having just returned from church with her parents.
‘Hi, sis, you’re wanted.’
‘Who by?’ Annabelle came out on to the landing of the family house in Sunrise Avenue, off Denmark Hill.
‘A feller,’ said Bobby.
‘Do I know him?’
‘Well, he knows you,’ said Bobby, ‘because he asked for you.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Harry something, he said.’
‘Harry something? Oh, was it Harrison?’ Annabelle didn’t wait for an answer, she swept past Bobby on her quick way down the stairs. Nick was on the doorstep. ‘Well, I’m blessed, where did you com
e from?’
‘Home,’ said Nick.
‘Well, I don’t know what my brother was doing, leaving you stuck on the doorstep on a cold morning,’ said Annabelle. ‘Would you like to come in?’
‘I’d like to have a word,’ said Nick.
‘In here,’ said Annabelle, and took him into the front room. There was a Sunday fire going, and she wanted to have him to herself for the moment. ‘Go ahead,’ she said. Nick took his hat off and examined it. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, and took it away from him. ‘I mean, you’re not going to have a few words with an old hat, are you?’
‘No, I hardly ever talk to hats,’ said Nick. ‘The fact is I said one or two things to you a little while ago that I want to apologize for. Yes, sorry and all that, Annabelle. Well, when I start me new job I’ll be able to afford a social life instead of just football.’
‘Well, bless me, have you woken up at last?’ asked Annabelle.
‘I haven’t been asleep, I—’
‘I don’t want any excuses,’ said Annabelle. ‘I just want to know if I’m going to be your one and only.’
‘What a nice thought,’ said Nick.
‘Oh, d’you think so?’
‘I like the sound of it.’
‘Well,’ said Annabelle forthrightly, ‘if I come to the pictures with you on Saturday evenings and help you to learn to play tennis, you’ve got to forsake everything except treating me as special. I’m not anybody, you know.’
‘I do know,’ said Nick, ‘I’ve been under the doctor since I met you.’
‘How kind,’ said Annabelle. ‘Well, then?’
‘Well what?’ asked Nick, slightly off balance.
‘Oh, come on, you blessed thickhead,’ said Annabelle, ‘I don’t actually have to ask for a kiss, do I?’
‘Should I ask your parents first?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Annabelle, ‘you can kiss me first, and then if I like it, I’ll take you to meet my mum and to say hello again to my dad. But if I don’t like it, you’ll have to try again.’
Nick kissed her, on her warm moist mouth. Annabelle closed her eyes and went a bit faint, as Ma did last Monday afternoon.
‘How was that?’ asked Nick, who’d liked it himself.
Pride of Walworth Page 31
